Berkley Street Series Books 1 - 9: Haunted House and Ghost Stories Collection

by Ron Ripley

  In a flash, Shane knew what it was and dove for it. The air rushed out of his lungs as he hit the floor, but his hand closed around the painfully cold wire.

  Struggling for breath, Shane pushed himself upright and looked at the woman. Her eyes were locked on his.

  For several seconds they stared at one another, then the woman said, “Did you bring the coffee into this room?”

  Shane shook his head, the pain and lack of oxygen stopping him from responding with words.

  “Someone,” she said in a low, angry voice, “put my wire into a cup full of coffee. Coffee. Who?”

  “A police officer,” Shane responded after he caught his breath.

  “Why?” she demanded. “Why would someone put me in a cup of coffee?!”

  “Hold on,” Shane said. “What’s your name?”

  “Mrs. Henderson,” she answered. “And yours?”

  “Shane,” he replied. “I think I know why they put you in the coffee.”

  She raised an eyebrow and waited for his explanation.

  “You’re here to kill me.”

  Mrs. Henderson gave a slight nod. “More than likely. I have killed a fair few since my death.”

  “That means someone is using you,” Shane continued.

  She frowned. “The thought had occurred to me.”

  “Do you want to be used?” he asked.

  “No,” she growled. “I’d rather kill the one who brought me here.”

  “Fair enough,” Shane said, “because I’d be okay with you doing that as well.”

  A smile played on her face. “Would you now?”

  He nodded. “I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll make sure you go to a quiet place, where you won’t be used, if you won’t kill me.”

  She considered the offer for a moment. “A fair deal. I only require one addition to it.”

  “And that is?” Shane asked.

  “I also kill the one who placed me in coffee,” she hissed, her voice filled with disgust.

  Shane eased himself back into his chair, smiled at the dead woman, and said, “I would sincerely like to see that happen.”

  Mrs. Henderson bowed her head and stepped towards the mirror.

  Shane folded his arms over his chest and stared at the door, trying to will the Lieutenant to walk in.

  He couldn’t wait for the man to die.

  Chapter 30: Losing His Cool

  Martin was an up and coming cop. A man who had moved quickly through the ranks, bypassing tried and true officers and making waves among the older detectives before earning his lieutenant’s position. He had also been brought along by Lisbeth Walker, who had vanished shortly after the murder of her ex-husband.

  Occasionally, Martin thought she might have done the deed. There was something wrong with her, a disconnect in her brain that didn’t allow her to make lasting bonds with people. She had told him as much when she had been his training officer. Lisbeth had said more after introducing him to a group called the Watchers, who paid him to do just that.

  The delivery of a piece of piano wire to the interrogation room had been something new.

  As had the taking in of Shane Ryan.

  Martin didn’t feel comfortable with what he had been asked to do.

  No, he told himself. Don’t kid yourself. I wasn’t asked to do anything. I was told.

  And the voice on the other end had told him what to do, and who to call. Martin couldn’t risk the exposure of him taking money for information, regardless as to how innocuous it seemed at the time. People generally disliked cops who relayed information to third parties.

  No threat had been made. None had even been implied.

  But it was there, an unspoken reality between himself and the Watchers.

  He didn’t even have Lisbeth to talk to about it.

  And what the hell was that wire supposed to do? Martin wondered. His instructions had been specific, but without any reasons given.

  Take Shane Ryan in for questioning should his house not burn down.

  Shane’s house hadn’t burnt down, and so Martin had brought the man in. That had been easy enough. Shane stunk of whiskey and he had an attitude. Not a single cop at the scene had batted an eye.

  A coil of piano wire will be brought to you. Leave it in the room with Shane and walk away. Do not let him see it.

  Martin had done that too.

  Afterward, he had left the room, turned off the cameras, and waited.

  A glance at his watch showed it had been twenty minutes.

  He considered making a phone call to his contact in the Watchers, but then decided against it. Martin would check on Shane and see what was going on.

  Martin put his false, Hey, I’m your buddy, smile on and walked back to the interrogation room. He took hold of the doorknob, which was a great deal colder than he remembered it ever being before, and let himself in.

  The coffee cup was on the table, but its contents were spilled across the same and on the floor.

  Shane sat on his chair, arms across his chest and a smile on his face.

  Martin’s own smile almost faltered, but he managed to keep it in place as he closed the door behind him and took his seat again.

  “Sorry about that,” Martin apologized. “Tried to get you something, but you know how it is.”

  “Sure,” Shane said. “Sorry about your coffee.”

  Martin glanced at the spilled liquid and shrugged, keeping the false smile on his face. “It’s not that big of a deal, right?”

  “No,” Shane said, shaking his head. “Not really. But Mrs. Henderson is wondering why you put her piano wire in your coffee though.”

  “What?” Martin asked, confused.

  A blurred shape slammed into him, knocking him out of the chair and onto the floor. His head struck the tile and the breath rushed out of him. The room spun out of control and he found himself staring up at the ceiling.

  “Don’t use the wire,” Shane said, and Martin turned to see Shane continued to sit, unmoved. “They’ll figure it out.”

  “Doubtful,” a woman replied, her voice vibrating with rage. “But I will do as you suggest.”

  Martin tried to sit up but he was struck from behind, a hard, painful blow that sent him reeling back to the floor on his stomach. He found he couldn’t move, his limbs refusing to respond to his commands. All he could see of Shane was the man’s worn black boots.

  A cold sensation bit into Martin’s neck and the unknown woman whispered in his ear, “This, my fine young man, is going to hurt a great deal.”

  An excruciating pain erupted in his back and what felt like a vise clamped down on his heart.

  As the pressure increased, Martin understood two things.

  The first was that he was unable to scream. And the second was that the woman had told him the truth.

  Chapter 31: David Brings in the New Team

  The women, Gabby and Jenna, were twins. Not particularly young, but not old either. David couldn’t place their ages and he found that oddly disconcerting.

  “Is this it?” Jenna asked. The red tie she wore with her black suit was the only way he could tell the difference between the women.

  David glanced at Borgin, then back to Jenna and wanted to ask if she saw another medieval style home around. But he didn’t. He kept his temper because he was almost done. He had to bring them in and make the introduction to Emmanuel, if he could find him.

  David wasn’t thrilled about the idea, but it was something he had always known he would have to do. It was how it transpired, and had for as long as he had worked for the Watchers. For those ghosts who were cognizant and rational enough to interact on a somewhat normal basis with the living, introductions were absolutely necessary. The pleasantries cut back on unwanted deaths.

  “How long are we going to wait here?” Gabby asked.

  “Until I say so,” David snapped.

  The women looked at him in surprise, but they didn’t flinch or recoil. They were hard, just as everyone he had
ever met in the organization was.

  “Okay, Gramps,” Jenna said. “No need to get all cranky.”

  David looked at her and wondered what it would be like to draw his pistol and execute her in front of her twin.

  Jenna seemed to sense his desire and she raised her hands up and apologized.

  David gave a curt nod, reached into the back of the truck and pulled out his shotgun.

  “Do you need that?” Gabby asked, sounding more curious than derogatory.

  “You’ve been briefed on what occurred here on my last trip?” he asked.

  Jenna nodded and Gabby said, “Sure, unknown ghost took out your partner.”

  “Yes,” David said, “and I have every intention of making him extremely uncomfortable if he reappears.”

  The twins shrugged simultaneously and waited for David to take the lead.

  Cradling the shotgun, David stepped away from the truck and forced himself forward. He hated the sight of Borgin Keep, the way it protruded from the hill and stabbed at the skyline. David had always known it was a terrible place, and one that might well be the death of him.

  For some reason he had never thought it would claim Blanche.

  He realized it had been a stupid oversight on his part, as was his attachment to her. But they had been friends, and David had never had many of them.

  “Who built this again?” one of the twins asked from behind him.

  “A monster,” David answered. “He’s the worst I’ve ever met. He doesn’t always appear when we arrive. If he shows up tonight, and I hope to God he does, then you’ll see it. Even smell it. And let me tell you, I haven’t known too many of the dead that I could actually smell. Seems like there’s a cloud of death that follows him around. Maybe it’s just me.”

  Gabby came up to his left. “Maybe. Who knows, though. I knew a ghost, little girl, down in Providence. She smelled exactly like peppermint. Couldn’t figure it out until I learned she had used a peppermint to choke her nanny to death.”

  “What a sweetheart,” David muttered.

  “Hey,” Jenna said from behind, “takes all kinds to make a world.”

  Gabby laughed and David could only shrug at their private joke. His concern for them dropped the closer they got to the Keep. There was a change in the air, a coldness that surprised him. They were still a hundred feet away and the temperature lowered with every step.

  The twins became quiet. Finally, Gabby asked, “Is it always this cold?”

  David could only shake his head, not trusting his voice to be steady.

  “How strong is he?” Jenna asked, coming up on his right.

  “It isn’t just him,” David said, clearing his throat to mask his fear. “No one’s sure how many he has killed. Or how many others died after he vanished.”

  “Hold on,” Jenna said. “I thought he was dead and buried on the grounds.”

  “It’s what the organization suspects,” David said, wondering why the women hadn’t read the dossier on Emmanuel Borgin or his house. “Even now he won’t confirm that he died on the grounds. Or even where he’s buried. If he is buried. He might be tucked away in one of the rooms no one ever found.”

  “House of horrors?” Gabby asked.

  Jenna snickered as David nodded.

  “There were always the rumors about sacrifice and black magic,” David said, leading the way towards the back of the building. “They were never confirmed. The journals and diaries of others who were frequent visitors here do mention ritual cannibalism, though. And it seems like it’s something the dead here wish they could enjoy again.”

  “We’ve heard rumors that this is where our people go when they misbehave,” Gabby said.

  “It is,” David replied. He stopped and looked at the twins. “That’s part of your job. To help people disappear.”

  The women smiled.

  “No,” David said, shaking his head. “Not in the way you’re thinking. That was executing someone. Maybe making it look like an accident. Or a crime. Maybe even digging a grave somewhere, or dumping them in the ocean. That’s child’s play. This, Borgin, it’s the real deal. You do something bad enough, and Blanche and I, we brought you here.”

  The twins glanced at one another and then Jenna asked, “Like who?”

  “Think about it,” David said. “This is your job now. Think about someone who the organization would love to have put in here.”

  “That’s easy,” Gabby said.

  Jenna nodded. “Abigail. But Abigail got away. Scooted right out after that mess she managed to make in New Hampshire.”

  “She didn’t make the mess,” David corrected. “She just panicked. She ran.”

  “Yeah she did,” Jenna said. “I heard from one of the accountants that they were able to trace some of her money to the Keys.”

  David nodded. “That’s definitely where some of the money is. But that’s not where she is.”

  “Oh yeah?” Gabby scoffed. “And do you know where she is?”

  David gestured towards the Keep.

  Jenna raised an eyebrow. “And how do you know that?”

  “I put her in there,” David said, and he started to walk again.

  “What happened to her?” Gabby asked as they hurried to keep up.

  “They took her arms and her legs,” David answered.

  “And then you cleaned up the remains, right?” Jenna asked.

  “It never got that far,” David clarified.

  “Why not?” Gabby asked.

  “Because of what happened to Blanche,” David said. “Harlan had to call in a few favors. One of the New Hampshire agents showed up at the Vermont State Police impound yard and claimed the Jeep as his own. Plus Harlan had another one of our people working in the yard that day.”

  “And that worked?” Gabby asked.

  David snorted. “Of course it worked. Cops never suspect anything. We’ve had people in law enforcement for a hundred years. Why do you think no one ever tore the Keep down? Or any of the others?”

  “Oh,” Jenna said, nodding. “But you’ve still got to get rid of the body, right. I heard that, from Harlan.”

  “When he was explaining the job,” Gabby added. “Whoever got caught in here, the remains had to be taken care of.”

  “I didn’t clean up her remains,” David said as they reached the door to the kitchen.

  “Why not?” Jenna asked.

  “She’s not dead yet,” David stated, and he went into the Keep.

  Chapter 32: Another Interrogation

  Marie Lafontaine sat in the chair across from Shane Ryan and looked at the man she had once been intimate with.

  Physically he was no longer the same. He had been beaten and bloodied, shot and burned. His left ear was healed, but a mangled mess. Scar tissue, pink and raw, was pulled tight along the right side of his neck. As he tapped his feet he drummed his fingers on the table, and she saw again how he had only eight remaining.

  The skin on his face was stretched thin, as if he hadn’t been eating well for months. Beneath his eyes were black circles and a vein thumped rhythmically in his left temple. His eyes watched her and they were guarded.

  They were in Interrogation Room 2. Room 1, where Shane had been kept when brought in by Martin was being processed as a crime-scene.

  Less than an hour earlier, Shane had opened the door to Room 1, stepped out and informed a passing officer that the Lieutenant was dead.

  Shane had been secured in the second interrogation room, and then it was discovered that the cameras focused on Room 1 had been turned off. All of the cameras. It hadn’t been a malfunction because the different pieces of equipment ran on various systems, ensuring that at least one was always able to catch the interrogation of a suspect fully.

  The Lieutenant was indeed dead. He was without any signs of obvious trauma, and no one quite knew when the man had died. The last anyone had seen of him had been near the coffee pot almost two hours earlier.

  “Hello, Shane,” Marie said.
>
  “Hello, Marie,” Shane said, his voice tight. “Funny meeting you in a place like this, huh?”

  There was no humor in his voice and none in his eyes.

  She had called him after Kurt’s funeral, but Shane hadn’t answered, or returned her text messages.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “You should ask the Lieutenant,” he replied.

  Marie kept herself from frowning. “He’s dead.”

  “That, I have discovered, doesn’t stop some people,” Shane said.

  “Well, if I see him around I’ll ask him,” Marie quipped. “Since he’s not here, either physically or spiritually, why don’t you fill me in?”

  “Evidently, the gentleman in question didn’t appreciate my mouth,” Shane answered. “So he brought me in to chat about the man who immolated himself in my side yard.”

  “And did you have anything you could tell him about that?” she asked.

  “I told him where he could go,” Shane said. “And how to get there. And how most of his friends could go with him.”

  Marie sighed. “Did you tell him anything pertaining to the man who lit himself on fire?”

  “No.” Shane yawned. “I did not.”

  “Alright,” Marie said, changing tack. “How did the Lieutenant die?”

  Shane shrugged.

  “When did he die?” she asked.

  He shrugged again, rolling his shoulders and yawning again.

  “How long did you wait before you told someone he was dead?” Marie asked.

  “Until I was sure he was dead,” Shane replied.

  “Why did you wait until you were sure?” she asked, surprised.

  “Because I didn’t like him,” Shane snapped. “I wasn’t going to perform CPR on him and I sure as hell didn’t want anyone else to either.”

  Marie sat back, stunned.

  Shane shook his head. “Don’t look shocked, Marie. He was miserable. He’s in a better place.”

  “Did you kill him?” she demanded, leaning forward.

  Shane grinned. “No. No, I did not.”

  “Did he just fall over and die then?” Marie asked.

  “Sure,” Shane said. He crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes.